


The King and the Peasant.

by IceBreeze



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: A character study of sorts, Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Drabble, Gen, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 23:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6062119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceBreeze/pseuds/IceBreeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riko learns that death is not as discriminate as he had thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King and the Peasant.

**Author's Note:**

> Erik still refuses to cooperate, so apparently when you can’t write one character then trying to write word vomit about a different character (or two) is the way to go. (It was meant to be about Jean but then Riko elbowed his way in). And of course, I can’t just choose a character i actually understand, no. (Where’s the fun if you don’t make things as hard for yourself as you can?)

There is only so much pain a person can take before it is too much. There is a limit, a line you mustn’t cross or you will find yourself part of a murder that is crueler than if you had stabbed them whilst they were vulnerable.

_(Because you’re no the one to pull the trigger. Though you're the one who caused it, your hands remain clean)._

There’s only so many times they can be hit and beaten, torn apart and left to bleed out in silence because nobody cares enough to help before they begin to fade away. The light from their eyes is lost (or maybe it was never there to begin with, maybe it was all just an illusion that they used to appear stronger than they were, maybe it was just to allow the satisfaction of seeing them crumble) and they grow dimmer each passing day as the shadows of the world overtake the darkness, the cruelty overpowering the light because light is easily broken when you know how.

_(And the darkness always gravitates towards the brightest souls, the ones with the fire burning in their heart and a passion like no other. They are the most entertaining to ruin._

_Because what fun would crushing someone be, if they didn’t struggle?)_

And once you’ve reached that point- once you have well and truly destroyed the person and watched the final pieces of their spirit crumble away into ashes- that’s it. You’ve reached the point of no return. (Would you like a trophy for your efforts? Because that’s the only satisfaction you’ll get from it anymore.)

There's no fun to be had with a broken toy.

A broken person won’t fight. They won’t struggle and shout, spitting at your feet in a feeble attempt of resistance as you smash their bones and their spirit, one pathetic piece at a time. They won’t glare or beg, spewing insults at you in a language you do not know (and one you do), for by this point they know it’s futile to do anything other than stare lifelessly and wait for it to be over.

_(But it’s never over, not while there’s still breath in their lungs and blood in their body. They’ll never be free)._

And yet, even though you can see the results of your handiwork (it’s in the haunted eyes, the slumped limbs, the scars scattered across every inch of skin feasible), though you have watched them fall apart millimeter by stubborn millimeter, you do not care. And why should you? They were trash, a useless pet that you owned and was yours to do with as you liked. They were expandable- a pawn in the grand scheme of things- and therefore you would unravel them as suited you.

 _(Not like Kevin. No, Kevin was useful. Kevin couldn’t be crushed even though_ he _was the king and he would make sure everyone knew that)._

And that was why, when Jean held the gun against his own head and waited for permission (to allow an escape like the pathetic piece of shit he was), Riko knew he had won. He was a king and his power would never waver. Even in the face of death, the impudent fool was still under his thumb and that was how he would remain.

_(Vaguely, he wondered if he should feel anything other than the slight twinge of amusement but dismissed it as preposterous)._

And it was fascinating to watch, as the content of Jean’s skull were splattered across the room at Riko’s signal. But then it was over, along with his interest in it (him). When he walked away without a second glance, the only thought he spared to the former number 3 (they’d need a replacement) was _‘it’s such a shame he didn’t suffer more,_ ’ before he returned to exy and anything else was forgotten.

_(He wouldn’t remember it until much later- after he’d lost everything- when his brother has a gun pointed at his head and his pleas go unheard. All he can feel is the desperation and fear before the bullet hits and the world goes black.  
_

_They would claim he committed suicide and no-one would doubt it, not when another teammate had done the same a few weeks ago. And though their ends were so similar, though he caused both deaths and though they both bled the same blood, there was nothing similar about two._ _  
_

_For in the end, the only blood on his hands was his own)._

**Author's Note:**

> Can be found on [tumblr.](http://polyhymina.tumblr.com/writings)


End file.
